"Some people say that rich people are always proud," remarked Elsie, "but I am sure Miss Lilla was not, though I suppose she was very rich."
"There is a good deal of covetousness and envy at the bottom of such remarks, I fear," replied Miss Hilliard. "There is no meaner satisfaction than that which people take in disparaging and slandering those who are better off than themselves."
"I never heard that any of these very people objected to making money themselves for fear it would make them disliked," said David.
Miss Hilliard smiled.
"No, we are all ready enough to run that risk. People are neither wicked because they are rich nor good because they are poor. There are temptations in both states of life. Rich people, when they are so disposed, have it in their power to do a great deal of good, but we all have opportunities enough in that way if we are only willing to use them. We will now begin our lessons."
Osric had paid very little attention to what Miss Hilliard said. He sat up straight and behaved well outwardly, but all the time, and all through the reading and prayer, he was thinking how he could manage to slip away and go to see the funeral. He did not care anything about Miss Lilla's goodness or the sorrow of her parents at losing her, but he wanted very much to see the fine white silver coffin, and the young ladies dressed in white, and all the parade. He wanted, too, to see the inside of the vault, and find out whether it was all lined and paved with white marble, as the children said. He thought about the matter all the morning, and listened to all the talk during recess, when every newcomer had some new story to tell, and the more he heard and thought, the more he wanted to go, and the more determined he was that he would go. For, lazy as he was about a great many things, Osric could be persevering and industrious as anybody, when any scheme of amusement was concerned.
As he was eating his dinner at noon, sitting under a tree in the edge of the woods, little Christopher Parsons came up to him. Christopher, or Christy, as he was usually called, was a slender little fellow about nine years old, a pretty good boy, but too easily led away for his own good. He could never bear to say "No!" And so it happened that he often got into scrapes and did wrong things because people asked him to do so. David Parsons; who was himself a good boy and fond of his little cousin, used to say that Christy was certainly to be known by the company he kept, for when he was with good boys he was a good boy himself, and when he was with bad boys, he was ready to be as bad as any of them.
"Don't you wish we could go and see the funeral, Ozzy?" he asked as he threw himself down on the grass at Osric's side.
"Yes, indeed! I think that Miss Hilliard is real mean," returned Osric.
"She is a regular old maid, and I hate old maids, anyway. They are always just as mean and spiteful as they can be."